I take them and imagine them at our game, grinning in the stands, my number bright against the lights. My chest tightens but in a good way.
Jenna textsme while I pick up Livy.
Jenna
Your parents are at the apartment. Is this your thing, people just showing up at your house?
My fingers freeze on the ignition.
My parents? Mom just got out of the hospital two hours ago. “Oh shit.” It’s because I didn’t tell her about the marriage… or an engagement or… a girlfriend at all. She’d crawl out of her graveto kill me for something like that, but it was just too much going on, too much?—
“Daddy?” Livy’s voice pipes up from the back seat. “What’s wrong?”
“My parents. They’re with Jenna. Alone.”
Colton
Don’t forget: we’re married.
That’s the only text I send back, sticking to our agreement not to mention that it’s a sham over messages. My ex is resourceful. I can easily picture that witch becoming a hacker or fucking one to hack me. But Jenna’s clever enough to understand the unspoken rules and keep quiet about our pretend marriage around my parents. If they ever found out it was fake, my mother wouldn’t just kill me, she’d haunt me forever.
Livy’s giggles fill the car. “I bet they’re already feeding her.”
“Yeah, to the wolves.” I jam the key in. “Buckle up.”
“Go fast, Daddy! We need to save your princess!”
“You’re schmaltzy.” She laughs at the odd word and I drive off.
Ten minutes later, I brace myself before pushing open the door to my penthouse, expecting screams, tears, maybe blood.
Instead…the rich scent of garlic and butter. Andlaughter.
My mother stands at the counter, knife glinting as it glides through carrots, her silver bangle sliding down her wrist with each chop. I can tell from her pale face that she’s not fine yet but apparently, she feels good enough that the first thing she wanted after her kidney failure was to visit me and cook for all of us. I know she has to go back to the hospital again but seeing her smile at Jenna like this… it seems like everything is back to normal. It’s not, though.
My mother has never liked any woman I’ve dated. Not a single one. But the knife in her shaky hand isn’t aimed at Jenna. It’s slicing through carrots, while my wife stirs something bubbling on the stove, her head thrown back in a genuine giggle—not the kind that comes from hostages with Stockholm syndrome. My heart does a little somersault when I notice they make Pelmeni. That’s what I’d describe as stuffed dumplings to non-Russians. My favorite dish.
“Granny!” Livy bolts across the room.
My mother’s knife clatters to the cutting board. “Livyushka!” She breaks into rapid Russian, arms wide. She catches my daughter, peppering her cheeks with lipstick smudges, exclaiming how many centimeters taller she’s grown since we visited her in the hospital just days ago.
“Are you okay, granny?”
“Yes, yes,” she replies, but the way her smile falters hints that she’s not quite as fine as she claims. She’s allowed home for just one night, and she chose to spend it with us. I feel honored, but I wish she’d called first. “I’m fine, darling!”
Dad looks up from whatever game he’s watching, the remote balanced on his knee. “There’s something waiting in your room,zaya.”
Livy’s shriek could break glass as she tears down the hallway.
My mother smiles but that fades the minute she sees me. Oh no. I’m in trouble. Big trouble. She gives me another death glare. The kind that tells me that she’ll chop my head off soon, but the Pelmeni needs her first. Then she comes up to me, gives me a way too hard peck on my cheek that also could have been a slap, and returns to Jenna.
“No, no, like this,” my mother says, her accent thicker than mine ever was. “You pinch edges tight or filling comes out during boil,Solnyshko.”
Jenna follows her instruction, her tongue caught between her teeth in concentration. “Like this, Irina?”
“Da, perfect! You learn so quick! Smart. Very smart.”
“I’ve been teaching yourwife. She is very good. I can’t help like I want to because of this stupid little health thing, but she can almost do it all by herself!”
